Villainess is being pampered by her beast husbands
Chapter 57 --57

Chapter 57: Chapter-57

Her mouth watered on instinct.

The scent wasn’t there, but her memory filled it in perfectly—savory broth, soft meat melting in her mouth, warm enough to bring tears to her eyes.

She inched forward without realizing.

And then—

A voice cut through the air, soft but commanding.

"Who are you guys?"

It belonged to an old man—

Gentle in tone, but with a weight behind it that made her freeze in place.

Kaya looked down at the old man standing before her.

He was slightly hunched with age, yet somehow still stood tall enough to meet her eyes. Thick, pure white wool wrapped around his neck like a soft mantle of snow—so pristine it seemed untouched by time or dust. His hands were folded neatly behind his back, posture calm and composed, the kind only years of quiet leadership could mold.

His eyes—though dulled by age—still held a sharpness beneath the greying hue, as if he could see far more than what lay in front of him.

And the moment his gentle but firm voice echoed—

"Who are you guys?"

—the air shifted.

The soft bleats of sheep, the laughter of children, the casual chatter—all of it stilled.

Silence blanketed the tribe as curious eyes slowly turned to Kaya and her group.

Kaya met the old man’s gaze for a beat... then gave a slight bow, her tone casual but respectful.

"I’m just a traveler. We’re just passing through."

But before she could finish, the old man’s gaze slid over—

Straight to Vayu.

And the moment he opened his mouth and said the word—

"Snake."

—the silence deepened. Visibly.

Tension snuck in like a chill breeze. People flinched. Some instinctively stepped back. Others simply stared, wide-eyed and unmoving.

Kaya blinked.

Even she hadn’t expected the word to hit this hard.

But now that it had, she knew what to do.

She turned to them, her voice even but softened, eyes flicking between the old man and the tribe.

"Yes... he is my—my partner."

She let the word tremble slightly as she spoke.

"We’re traveling. He led us here hoping for shelter... That’s all."

She paused, glancing down for a second, letting a breath catch in her throat—calculated, practiced.

Because Kaya knew something very well:

Too much confidence invites suspicion.

Especially from those who’ve lived long and watched even longer.

If she looked too sure, too well-prepared, they’d pick her apart in seconds.

No.

What you needed here wasn’t strength.

It was vulnerability.

Just enough to seem real.

A flicker of hesitation.

A bow of the head.

Averted eyes.

That’s how you earned trust among people who had been burned before.

And right on cue, the old man’s lips curved slightly, neither smiling nor frowning.

His voice, though aged, held no anger—just quiet authority.

"Child... if you have something to say, say it clearly. This old man has seen far too much to be fooled by half-truths."

Kaya closed her eyes for a breath, then lowered her head again, bowing deeper this time.

And around her, reactions rippled like surprise sparks through dry grass.

Cutie—blinked wide-eyed.

Vayu’s -eyes narrowed slightly, unreadable.

And from Cutie’s shoulder, the tiny sparrow puffed up with visible shock.

....

(Did the she-devil just bow...?

Bow to someone else?)

Their expressions were priceless.

Kaya would’ve beaten them by now if the moment wasn’t so serious.

Because, yes.

She bowed.

And she did it because sometimes...

a bow could be sharper than a sword.

One of the most important lessons Kaya had learned from her deputy captain wasn’t about weapons or tactics.

It was about people.

"Never show too much confidence in front of the pure-hearted," her captain used to say. "Because they’ll read your soul before your words ever land."

And he was right.

The pure-hearted weren’t weak.

In fact, they were the most dangerous in their own way. Because their simplicity made them sharp. Their goodness made them unforgiving in their judgment. If they sensed deceit, they wouldn’t hesitate to cut ties—or cut throats.

So if you wanted to survive among such people, you needed to play it slow. Let them suspect you at first. Give them reason to hesitate. And then, when the moment was right—

Show your wounds.

Your scars.

Your most miserable truth.

Let them feel your pain.

Let them decide to trust you.

Kaya inhaled deeply.

Then, as if the weight had finally become too much, her voice cracked—choked, as though each word came with effort.

"I’ve been separated from my people..."

She paused, her fingers curling slightly as her gaze lowered. She didn’t look anyone in the eyes.

"I had... a younger sister. My parents... they’re gone now. It’s just the two of us."

Her voice trembled as she continued, every pause filled with air thick enough to break.

"We had an argument. She—she hit me. Left me there. Alone. In the forest. I—I don’t even know why. Maybe she was angry. Maybe she was hurting."

The lie was smooth, but the pain in her voice was real.

Because even though this tale was weaved together from fragments of truth and survival instinct—Kaya truly did feel lost.

Her past was broken.

Her wealth? Gone.

Her money? gone.

Her plans for retirement? Scattered like ash in wind.

She had worked, bled, and clawed her way up from poverty only to be kicked back down when all she wanted was rest.

"They didn’t wait for me. My tribe... they just left."

She swallowed, her hands tightening into fists.

"I need to go back. I don’t remember everything. Just flashes. Her eyes. Her anger. Her pain. I just want to know why... I want to find her."

Her eyes shimmered, but she didn’t wipe the tears. She let them fall. Let them be seen.

Because for once... they weren’t forced.

They were genuine.

And just as she lowered her head further, something shifted in the background.

From a distance, a brown fur beastman—likely a village elder or leader—stood watching. Beside him, a younger woman, his wife perhaps, said nothing.